


Teenage Dirtbag

by 8ethespider8itch



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 22:49:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12022713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8ethespider8itch/pseuds/8ethespider8itch
Summary: "But she doesn't know who I am, and she doesn't give a damn about me..."Chloe Price, teenage dirtbag, meet Rachel Amber: the most popular girl in school. High school heartaches are hard enough when the girl you love doesn't end up dead.This song has been nagging at the back of my mind since I started playing BTS.





	Teenage Dirtbag

 Chloe threw herself down on her back, bouncing once, twice, three times up off the mattress. There was a joint smoldering between her fingers, unsmoked. She was too tired to smoke just now. Too tired to anything. The sun streamed between the blinds, the Hi-Fi crackled softly, playing whatever mixed CD she'd hastily pulled from the pile when she got home. Music could drown out thoughts of Rachel, hopefully. She was already hiding behind Chloe's eyes, staring her down every time she closed them. There was no need to think about her between blinks. Twelve to fifteen times per minute was often enough. She stared at the ceiling, keeping her eyes open wide as long as she could.  
  
_Her name is Noelle_  
_I have a dream about her_  
_She rings my bell_  
_I got gym class in half an hour._  
  
  Chloe groaned loudly. Ugh. Wheatus. She'd never liked Wheatus. Brendan B. Brown's whiney, angsty voice made her skin crawl. This had to be Rachel's mix. Really, she should get up and turn it off. This was only going to make things worse. Thinking about Rachel, beating out the rhythm on the dash of Chloe's truck and yelling along to angsty teen music. Rachel, with the sun in her hair and her hair in her face, laughing at Chloe's wrinkled up nose. Rachel, alive with the energy of two. She should turn this off. But Chloe was just too tired.  
  
_Oh how she rocks_  
_In Keds and tube socks_  
_But she doesn't know who I am_  
_And she doesn't give a damn about me..._  
  
  Rachel loved this stupid song. She'd worn red gym shorts and knee-high tube socks every gym class for as long as Chloe'd known her. It was an impressive visual, honestly, all long, tan legs and long, blonde hair. She was a fast runner, and she'd always participated in class, shooting hoops and kicking soccer balls and cheering obnoxiously whenever she scored, punching the air.  Chloe would lay in the grass, or hang out under the bleachers, and watch the goofy charade. Sometimes even after she left school she came to tune into the charade.  
  
_Cause I’m just a teenage dirt bag baby_  
_I'm just a teenage dirt bag baby_  
_Listen to Iron Maiden baby with me!_  
  
  They'd driven around town with this CD playing at full blast. It was a lot of pop-punk, "I hate my hometown but I love my friends and pizza" type garbage, none of it Chloe's favorite. But it had embodied their relationship. Rachel and Chloe versus Arcadia Bay. They'd seen what they thought was the ugliest side of Arcadia Bay, and they'd been so ready to leave it behind together. Chloe suspected half the reason she hated this relatively harmless song so acutely was how much it reminded her of what a dirtbag she actually was. Painfully relatable. At the time, she thought her only redeeming quality was whatever Rachel saw in her.  
  
_Her boyfriend's a dick_  
_And he brings a gun to school_  
_And he'd simply kick_  
_My ass if he knew the truth_  
_He lives on my block_  
_And he drives an Iroc_  
_But he doesn't know who I am_  
_And he doesn't give a damn about me._  
  
  Chloe's stomach lurched. Nathan's gun, his sick obsession with Rachel, his rich-ass Daddy...this was just entirely too close to home. Chloe shuddered to think what would happen if he knew that she and Rachel were anything other than friends. Or if Max hadn't been hiding behind the stalls in that dingy Blackwell bathroom. He was the ugliest side of Arcadia Bay, him and Jefferson, and she and Rachel hadn't seen the truth until it dragged them both under. Chloe came up for air with a little help, but Rachel had drowned in it. Chloe's eyes filled with tears.  
  
_Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby_  
_I'm just a teenage dirtbag baby_  
_Listen to Iron Maiden baby with me!_  
_Oh, yeah, dirtbag-_  
_No she doesn't know what she's missing_  
_Oh, yeah, dirtbag-_  
_No she doesn't know what she's missing!_  
  
  The bedroom doorknob rattled, and Chloe hurried to stub out her burnt-down joint before it swung open. "Chill, it's just me," Max said as she closed the door behind her. Chloe scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. "What's up?" Max asked.  
  
"Nothing. Just thinking." Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose to stave off the oncoming headache. "Can you change the CD?"  
  
  Max shrugged. "Sure. Anything in mind?" She sifted through the pile of haphazardly placed disks.  
  
  "Iron Maiden?" Chloe asked weakly, with a little laugh. Noting Max's dubious look, she snorted. "Kidding, kidding. Anything but this would be nice."  
  
  "It really would." Max rolled her eyes and sang to herself, in her most dramatically nasal voice. "Ive got two tickets to Iron Maiden, bayybeeee, come with me Friday, don't say mayybeee, cuz I'm just a teenage dirtbag, bayybee, like you!" She switched the disks, putting on some album from a band the two of them used to like, Jack's something-or-other, then laid down on the bed next to Chloe. She looked a million years old, like Chloe felt. "You know," she said softly, looking over at Chloe. "I fucking hate Wheatus."  
  
  They lay like that, forehead to forehead like a pair of parentheses for what felt like ages before Chloe's shoulders relaxed and stopped shaking. They didn't talk about the burnt-out joint or the tears on Chloe's cheeks. They didn't need to, not really. When the quiet sobs finally subsided, Chloe cleared her throat. "Me too."

  "You too what?" Max asked, perplexed.

  "I fucking hate Wheatus."


End file.
